Chapter 24

The light chatter of happy friends, drunk buddies and men trying to snatch a one-night stand filled the tiny pub. Abigail sat at the bar, staring at the untouched glass of liquor. She thought she’d be able to drink her sorrows away like hundreds of people. Still, drinking was never quite her way of coping, and alcohol reminded her of Theodore.

The bartender eyed her from the second Abigail stepped inside with a duffle bag on her arm and tear-streaked cheeks. It wasn’t anything new to see, but the young woman sympathised with whatever Abigail was going through more than she would normally.

Abigail only uttered one sentence since she arrived, asking for the glass of Brandy—neat. The bartender, whose name tag read ‘Louisa’, tried to initiate small talk with Abigail. However, unlike her usually polite self, Abigail utterly ignored the woman.

Louisa didn’t fret about it. She was quite accustomed to the cold shoulder of people. Sometimes, they’d even take their frustration out on her, while others would pour their heart and soul into a drink, yapping her ears off with their issues. She’d skillfully serve other customers while nodding and humming, after which she would offer solid advice if she could. That’s what made her job exciting, in her eyes. Though it didn’t pay much, Louisa was able to help people—even the most broken of them all.

Perhaps that’s why she sought to help Abigail too. Her aura screamed ‘broken’ from the second she entered.

“Would you like me to switch that for you?” Louisa asked Abigail, finding it hard to ignore the nudging at her mind to help.

Abigail’s red swollen eyes rose from the glass to Louisa’s smiling face.

“Um,” she cleared her throat when her voice cracked, “no thanks. How much do I owe you?”

Louisa studied her for a bit. “It’s on the house.” She reached forward to cover Abigail’s hand with hers, offering as much comfort as possible. “Would you like a sandwich? Something to eat?”

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure?” Louisa frowned. She could practically hear Abigail’s growling stomach from where she stood.

Abigail forced a smile, trying not to be rude but just wanting to be left alone for as long as she could. “I’m fine, really. I’m actually waiting on someone. He should be here in about thirty minutes.”

Though Abigail had tried hard not to, the edge in her voice made her sentence snappy. Still, Louisa simply nodded with a hum, leaving Abigail to her thoughts. Louisa was curious about this man who was coming to meet Abigail here. In fact, it relieved her. Perhaps she simply needed someone who she knew to talk to.

Indeed, exactly thirty minutes later, Seymour joined Abigail at the bar. He smiled as she saw her, taking the empty stool beside her. Abigail was so lost in her daze that she didn’t even see him until he spoke.

“Hi, Abigail.”

“Oh!” she yelped, snapping her head toward Seymour. His three-piece suit was always sharp, neatly fitted over his broad shoulders, and his curly hair fell over his forehead. “Hi, Mr Hansic. I didn’t see you there.”

Seymour’s heart fell as he saw Abigail’s face. He knew she sounded distraught when she called him, but he never imagined that she had been crying.

“Oh my gosh, Abigail. What’s wrong?”

Abigail chuckled with a shake of her head. “It’s that obvious, huh? Gosh, I must look awful.” Abigail buried her face in her hands, heaving out a breath.

Seymour pulled her hand away, not wanting her to hide from him. But he froze when he noticed that he touched her—the woman who never wanted to be touched. Abigail stared at where his hand held hers. Yet, she didn’t feel the urge to push him away, screaming and running for the hills.

Slowly, Seymour retreated his hand. He noticed that she didn’t react as expected, but he didn’t want to push it. His eyes flickered to the bag at her feet and the peak of a nightgown under her coat. Evidently, she had left her home in a hurry, probably upset.

“I didn’t know who else to call.” Her voice brought him back from his thoughts. “But I just didn’t want to be alone.”

Seymour’s frown deepened. He wanted to hold her hand with everything in him but controlled himself. “Talk to me, Abigail. What happened? Who do I need to kill?”

His attempt at humour suceeded as Abigail chuckled a little. “I um . . . Do you remember when I came for my interview at SHI’s, and you reached for my hand, but I flinched away?”

“Engraved in my mind. Why?”

“I told you everything. I spurred it all out because I desperately needed the job, and I thought I ruined my chance. So, when I told you why I flinched away, I hoped it would soothe some of the damage from my rude gesture.”

“It was never rude, Abigail. I’m an understanding man. You didn’t even have to tell me everything, and I would’ve understood and respected your condition.”

She nodded, chewing on her lip. “Well, I never actually admitted it, but I’m glad I told you. I mean, only two people other than you know, and I . . . I—I can’t go to either of them, so you knowing the truth really helps right now.”

Seymour nodded, pulling on his crisp slacks to turn more towards Abigail. As he gazed at her, a crease sat between his eyebrows, listening to her stumbling over her words.

“The truth is, a lot happened over the past few months. Nicholas, the man who did this to me, he . . . he got out of prison.”

“What?” Seymour almost fell from his stool.

“He got out even earlier than his already unfair short sentence, and he’s been driving me insane ever since.” Abigail proceeded to tell Seymour everything, excluding as much detail about Theodore as possible but mentioning what Nicholas did with Camille and Najay, including the fight it caused.

Seymour nodded along as she spoke, resisting the urge to track down this monster and kill him.

“I know I might sound paranoid, but he’s plucking away everyone from my life, and I hate to admit it, but I’m scared of his intentions. Why is he trying to get me alone so badly?” Abigail sighed. “Well, now I’ll know because he had succeeded.”

“Hey.” Seymour couldn’t help his urge. He held onto her hand, causing her gaze to snap to his. “You’re not alone. I’m still here, remember?” His phone rang, but he declined it without a second glance.

Abigail’s eyes flashed to where his hand held hers before meeting his gaze again. “I . . . You’re my boss. I can’t exactly call you whenever I’m feeling lonely.”

“You can,” he assured, never letting his voice falter. “And thank you for telling me this. I swear I won’t let that monster get close to you.”

Abigail sighed again. She had heard those words before from yet another rich and powerful man. What did she do to have her life filled with men of such high status? First Mark, then Nicholas, now Seymour and Theodore. Not to mention that dick Vino. It was always something else. If they weren’t trying to harm her, they wanted to pamper and protect her. And that precisely was what Abigail didn’t like.

Was she a delicate flower on a bidding list, swaying from the protection of one rich man to another? Abigail hated that stigma for herself—being caught in the powerful world when she evidently didn’t belong. That much was proven today when Cleo came home, easily plucking her from Theodore’s garden, only to hand her over to Seymour.

“I know I said I was scared of his intentions, and I can’t help that I do. But please, I don’t need someone to protect me anymore. I just need . . . a friend.”

“Of course,” Seymour whispered, leaning closer to her. He spotted the bag again. “I reckon you’ve had some issues with Mr Adams?”

Abigail scoffed. “Sure. But I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Her hand grew sweaty, so she pulled it out of Seymour’s embrace.

“Where will you stay?” he asked. Abigail could almost taste the offer coming up, but she quickly dismissed it before he could even fantom the thought. She has had enough of staying at rich men’s houses.

“I already booked a room at a motel for a few nights. I’m fine.”

“And after those few nights? Is it safe? Won’t Nicholas—”

“I have a restraining order again him. Even though he obviously doesn’t give a shit about a piece of paper, he knows what will happen if he violates it. For now, he’s trying to get to me without being close to me. But I’ll be fine, really.”

“Abigail—”

“Mr Hansic, I know you mean well, I do. But for now, can we just talk . . . share a drink? Get my mind away from this instead of fostering it even more?”

‘Plus, I can’t imagine what it would look like if I left Theodore’s house to stay with you in the span of two hours,’ she wanted to add but decided against it.

Seymour strained a smile but nodded anyway. “Of course.” As much as he wanted to scoop Abigail under his wings and five security guards, he didn’t want to upset her anymore. So, he allowed the topic to rest.

Seymour’s phone rang again as Abigail reached for the drink, taking a sip for the first time since she got it. She despised Brandy but saw it fit for her mood.

Louisa returned to take Seymour’s offer and insisted that he also order food, nudging her head in Abigail’s direction to tell him that the poor girl was starving. Luckily, Seymour picked up on the silent message and ordered them a platter of their finest meal.

“So, what would you like to talk about?” he asked after a reign of silence.

She shrugged. “I finished the presentation for next week.”

“Work?” Seymour laughed. It was hearty and loud, causing Abigail’s lips to twitch upwards. She hadn’t really heard him laugh before. “You want to talk about work?”

“Like I said, you’re my boss. What else is there to talk about?”

“Tell you what,” he rested his glass beside him and hushed his ringing phone again, “from this minute forward, we are friends. That means you call me Seymour and not Mr Hansic, and when we are away from the office, no work talk. Deal?”

Abigail chewed on her lip, trying to hold back a smile. “But Mr Hansic—I mean, Seymour . . .” It tasted weird on her tongue. Of course, she called him by his first name, but only when she was talking about him and not to him. “Would that mean we’d see each other outside of the office?”

“Only if you want to.” He shrugged. “I want to put everything behind us, including that embarrassing marriage proposal. Gosh,” he groaned, and Abigail laughed.

“It was embarrassing for you?” she snorted. “I was the one who ran away like a five-year-old.”

“I startled you.”

“But I still acted like a madwoman!” Abigail tried to stifle her laugh in her palms but soon had to hold her stomach as it cramped her. In fact, the stinging ache in her tummy was more painful than usual, but she hadn’t focused on it much since the entire incident with Theodore and Cleo. Feeling pain in her stomach substituted for the pain in her heart.

“Ah, it was stupid of me to try that anyway.” Seymour took another sip of his drink. “But we live, and we learn.”

“Yeah, and at least we can laugh about it.”

Seymour’s phone rang yet again as Louisa placed two plates of barbecue ribs and mashed potatoes in front of them. Abigail’s stomach growled at the sight, noting how hungry she really was. Louisa smiled at Seymour, proud and grateful that he somehow managed to lift Abigail’s mood and cause her to eat.

“This is splendid,” she moaned through a full mouth. Seymour’s simper didn’t fall as he watched her eat. It was anything but ‘cute’ in how she devoured the meat from the bone, but it was quite intriguing.

As they ate quietly, several pings rang from Seymour’s phone, seeming as if someone sent a hundred messages. Then, it rang yet again.

“Why don’t you take it?” Abigail asked, noting that it was the fifth call.

He glanced at the screen for the first time since he arrived, his eyebrows shooting up when he noticed the caller ID.

“I probably should,” he mumbled. “Give me five minutes.”

“Sure.”

Twenty-five minutes later, Seymour returned to the bar. Abigail’s plate was empty by then, and his had gotten cold. He wore a troubled look as he sat beside her. Abigail could tell it wasn’t anything good. After all, he was on the phone twenty minutes longer than he had predicted.

“Trouble?” Abigail asked as he sighed.

“Abigail,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “you don’t know how much I hate having to do this, but—”

“You have to leave,” she concluded.

He sighed again. “Yes, there’s an emergency at—”

“It’s okay.” She smiled. “I understand, trust me. Thank you for coming to my rescue. I feel a lot better.”

‘Still hurt, but better. Still broken, but better. Still torn apart, but better. My heart is still at Theodore’s penthouse, but at least I feel better . . . At least for now.’

Seymour stayed seated, gazing at her. “Will you text me the address of the motel you’re staying in? At least someone should know.”

“I will. Thanks for everything.”

Seymour closed his eyes as if mentally preparing himself for leaving her. “Can I . . . can I hug you?”

With a smile, Abigail leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Seymour’s shoulders. His arms snaked around her waist almost instantly. Though it only lasted two seconds, it provided the comfort they needed—Abigail to go through the night and for Seymour to muster the strength to leave her here.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

Abigail nodded. “See you.”

The clock on the wall struck ten p.m., as Seymour paid the tab and left. Abigail thought it’d be best to go soon. She hated the thought of going to a foreign place, curled up in abed that’s he wasn’t familiar with all alone all night, because she knew there’s no way she could fall asleep tonight.

Still, she couldn’t hide in the pub forever, and the earlier she left, the smaller the chance she’d get smuggled or kidnapped by Nicholas. she reached for her duffle bag. However, sharp pain in her stomach jolted her to a completely frozen state. The bag plummeted from her grip.

She winced, grabbing onto her stomach as she leaned against the bar.

“Whoa, is everything okay?” Louisa asked, seeing the evident discomfort on Abigail’s face.

Abigail nodded. “I am. It’s just . . .” she tried to move, but the sting in her stomach prevented her from doing so.

“Do you have a stomach ache?”

“Yeah.” Abigail lowered her voice as she said her following words. “I got my period this morning. I’ve been having cramps all day. They just got a lot worse.”

“Do you usually feel this much pain?” Louisa rounded the bar to sit next to Abigail, watching her with a keen eye.

“Barely. But some months are worse than some.”

Louisa chewed on the inside of her cheek, not liking the look on Abigail’s face. “Would you like some water?”

“No thanks—ah!” She tried to get up again but was rendered powerless by the pain.

“I think you should go to a doctor.” Louisa’s hand shook as she held Abigail’s knee. “Just to be safe.”

Abigail hated hospitals. The last time she spent days in one because of Nicholas, she swore she’d avoid going there at all costs. But this pain—it scared her.

“I would come with you, but my shift doesn’t end for the next two hours, and you don’t look like you’re gonna make it another second. I’ll call you a cab.”

Abigail nodded. “Okay, thanks.”

Abigail remained seated as Louisa talked on the phone. Despite everything she’d been through, this worried her the most. Since she got her period at thirteen years old, her cramps have been fairly mild. In high school, her friends would envy her and call her ‘God’s favourite’. She had had all but three periods in ten years that were awfully painful—this being one of them.

“Okay, the driver will be here in five minutes. You can tell him which hospital you’d like to go to.”

“Thank you,” Abigail mumbled.

Fear clawed at her heart, and tears pooled in her eyes. She prayed that this was really her period and nothing else. Because on top of what she already had to face, she doesn’t think she’d be able to bear anything else.